John Pitre’s “Collateral Damage,” is a powerful wake-up call to the current political climate. Never has there been such global tension and this piece does an awe-inspiring job of capturing the lack of humanity that political leaders currently possess.

The global power trip is so insidious it seems to have infected the general population, eliciting events like political clashes in Spain and maniacal acts of a mass murder in Las Vegas. Leaving a wake of destruction that renders the general population speechless.

Our representatives feign innocence while they create weapons of mass destruction knowing that with the push of a button they’re capable of destroying all that is sacred in the world. Gone are the days of leaders who rule with compassion. The current dictators don’t care about the good of the people. Their egos are fueled by the ability to obliterate entire nations in the spirit of “defending our freedom.”

How can we be free, if we don’t even feel safe leaving our homes? World-wide tensions are leading people to drive trucks into crowds, bring bombs into stadiums, and fly planes into buildings.

We are on the verge of WWIII and our fate is in the hands of soulless dictators; devoid of love, compassion, and morality. I may not be able to do anything to stop it, but, like John Pitre, I’m certainly going to acknowledge the possibility that we may, very shortly, bear witness to mass global genocide.

One picture— “Collateral Damage”— really is worth a thousand (or a million) words. The loss of innocence. People living as soulless as wooden dolls. Destruction in the name of liberty and justice.

Pitre has made a bold statement here, and I, for one, say Amen, Brother.

“Dream of Flight,” has special meaning for me, and I felt it was important to contact you regarding the reason I purchased a print.

My boyfriend is incredibly smart, creative and soulful. He has a master’s degree in private security, holds 7th degree black-belts in five different forms of martial arts, he’s a certified electrician and he speaks four different languages. He also happens to be schizophrenic.

There was a movie, based on a true story, called A Beautiful Mind that did a great job of helping neuro-typicals understand the complexity of this type of mental illness, but it wasn’t until I saw this painting that I realized a single image could as well.

The painting suggests that “normal” people doubt the dreams or abilities of inventors, but it is the “mad” scientists who envision a new way of doing things. Not only do these “wacky” personalities dream it, they can manifest their visions. Some of the most famous Renaissance men, leaders, artists, theorists, inventors, musicians and mathematicians were/are mentally ill. Or should they be referred to as mentally gifted; seeing things in a way we mere mortals can’t.

I think someday experts will say that we’re all on a continuum of mental illness in some fashion or another. The only difference between imagination and hallucination is the later takes place in the region of the brain that also produces nightmares. When I think about being jarred awake by some of my most horrifying dreams, I can’t believe anyone could function in a never-ending nightmare, much less get a master’s degree while a voice in their head is telling them to drive off a cliff.

To me, “Dream of Flight” is a celebration of people who see things that aren’t there. And instead of being afraid of their visions they investigate them and seek solutions that could change life in a way “normal” people are incapable of. When I asked my boyfriend how he’s managed to accomplish so much despite the challenges, he said, because I wanted to become the type man who could attract a woman like you. Sweeter words have never been spoken.

Thanks for creating a piece of work that honors the minds of extraordinary people, like my guy.

A quick note of thanks to you regarding “Nightstreet.” It reminds me of every city I’ve ever been to. After returning from Japan, I started planning my next trip: Amsterdam to Berlin.

My mom had been to Amsterdam and thought I should know that the laws were different there. Mainly, that coffee shops sold pot and prostitution was legal. She didn’t have judgement about that, but felt her twenty-one-year-old son should know what to expect.

Curious, I went to several coffee shops and walked through the red-light district. Both were completely different than I thought they’d be. The coffee shops were totally chill and the red-light district was small, clean and quiet. There were sections with beautiful women and sections with “more affordable” ones.

Room after room, they stood behind glass doors, mostly naked, looking like mannequins for sale. I was more curious about the details than the ladies. What they do for the money, how much did they charge, did they ever get mistreated or humiliated and…were the rooms sound proof? I left after a few minutes and walked down the street in the rain. The only guy without an umbrella.

When I came home, I told my mom about the trip, including my tour of the red-light district. She asked about my favorite memory, I said, “Every city I went to.”

She had three of your prints and knew I liked your work too, so she suggested I pick out one of your paintings for my birthday. When I saw “Nightstreet” it brought back memories of my trip to Amsterdam, but also every major trip I’d taken from the time I was kid.

“Nightstreet” is above the desk in my room and I appreciate the “places it takes me back to.”

Some things have a calming effect for most people: being near the water, watching a beautiful sunset, being with someone you love. In this case, J. Pitre’s painting called At Rest has all three, plus the image of a boat I saw the night I met my wife on a blind date.

I’d never seen her before, but friends set us up thinking that I (a veterinarian) and she (a woman who ran an animal shelter) might have a few things in common. The plan was to meet at 8:00 for dinner at the Rusty Scupper, a seafood restaurant in Baltimore’s Inner Harbor. I went early to watch the sunset. The sky was awash with colors from orange to indigo. Rays of sunlight shined through the silhouette of the masts on the ships and into the restaurant making the entire place glow. It was breathtaking.

And just when I thought nothing could be more beautiful, she walked in.

The only thought I had was— YES. To everything. Her face, those lovely cheeks bones, her beautiful mouth, skin that shimmered like silk. And the way she moved, hypnotic. I was drunk by the site of her.

I remember the next few minutes like they happened yesterday. I stood to introduce myself. She smiled that gorgeous smile and said it was nice to meet me, but she wasn’t accustomed to strangers introducing themselves. She glanced away and waved to another table.

She wasn’t my date. I felt like a complete idiot and explained the misunderstanding. She touched my shoulder, leaned in and said, “Lucky girl. I hope you have a wonderful time.”

I couldn’t believe what I blurted in response, “I’d rather spend the evening with you.” Me, sounding like a bumbling ladies’ man. It was completely out of character.

She laughed and said, “How do you know? There’s a chance I could be a horrible person.”

“I seriously doubt that,” I said and summoned the courage to say, “If there’s any chance of seeing you again, I’ll tell my date that I’ve recently met someone special.”

“You should at least buy her dinner. It would be rude to…”

“So that’s a yes? You’ll see me again?”

She nodded. “Tomorrow night, here, same time?”

It was the beginning of a life with a woman who never ceases to amaze me. In fact, she was the one who found At Rest. It reminds us both of the night we met, the night that we’ll never forget.

Your painting, Restrictions, hit me like a two-ton truck. It’s like you painted what I used to see in my dreams (being able to fly) and what I see now (tethers). My wife tells me to stop worrying about everything. That we have all we need. But it’s not that easy. I don’t want to complain but sometimes it’s hard to get ahead, especially with a special needs son.

I wish I could say that I own your painting. That it was hanging in our house. But, a buddy owns it. Thursdays are card nights. The four of us take turns being host. We’ve been playing for years, but I never saw the painting before. Last week his basement flooded, so we played poker in the den.

That’s when I saw Restrictions. He said he got it from his father a few years back. His dad owns the factory where I work. Good guy, but he’s been sick a lot. That’s why he hired the Tyrant a couple of years ago and I would have quit a long time ago, but it’s a small town. Not much else to do.

Normally I win at cards, but I couldn’t focus. I kept looking at the painting. It was the only thing I’d ever seen that echoed with me. Seeing it meant there was at least one other person in the world who knew how life can put you in chains.

I’ll never tell my wife that. She’d take it personal. But, I don’t want to leave her, or my son, I just want the freedom to change the rest of my life. I want to remember what it felt like to fly. Now all I get are reoccurring dreams. It’s not the same stuff in each dream, but the feeling is the same. I can’t get out.

Some dreams are about me being at the airport. I get to the gate on time and realize my luggage is at the curb. Or I’m trying to get out of the house, but I keep forgetting stuff inside. Or I want to go for a walk, but can’t find my shoes. There’s always some reason I can’t leave and I’m always forgetting what I’ve left behind.

You want to know something? I’d give up flying in my dreams if I could tell off my boss, just like he does to me and my friends at the plant. I’d be a better manager than him. At least I respect people. And I know every part about production.

Wait. If my buddy saw the way that guy acted he’d tell his father to can him. Pronto. They’re good people. Really good.

It’s funny, I never cared about art before. But when I saw Restrictions, something told me it was time to make a change. I’m gonna make a bet right now. The next time I write to you, I’ll be the boss. And with the money I’m making, I’ll get my own print of Restrictions. It will be hanging in my office, where the door’s always open for decent folk.

I bought Explorers by John Pitre last month and had to send a note of appreciation.

When my parents were still living they collected elephant figurines from around the world— which somehow disappeared after they passed away. When I discovered Pitre’s work I knew I would make a purchase, but when I saw Explorers the decision was clear.

Explorers made me feel like all the elephants they’d collected weren’t stolen, rather they’d been released into the world. Alive and charging toward a new world. I know… magical thinking.

But to find a single painting that fills the void of a hundred missing figurines is magical.

Mr. Pitre might find it interesting to know that shortly after I bought Explorers my daughter got a tattoo of an elephant that runs the length of her forearm. The family tradition continues. All my thanks!

When I happened upon Beyond, ithad a “reach out and grab me” effect. I saw it at co-worker’s house during a holiday party, and was transported to a “higher place.” A place where sisterhood is celebrated. A place where the world is transformed from the “here and now” to a place filled with magic, wonder and harmony.

I think, as young women, we tend to compete with each other, but as we gain an understanding of ourselves and our need for support, we form a community that loves and protects each other. We can still appreciate the men in our lives, but we don’t “need” them. We choose them; sometimes for a week and sometimes for life.

My husband (lovingly) calls me and my women friends the witches, because we all have certain “powers” and together we create worlds filled with beauty, mystery and strength. One friend can quiet a room just by entering it, as if her very presence casts a spell of serenity. Another friend sees ghosts. I’m an intuitive.

Like the women in the painting we help each other when needed, but also have our own interests. Never drifting too far from one another. Always listening to each other’s hearts.

My co-worker and I have become very good friends, which makes perfect sense knowing we have the same taste in art— which is no small thing. I bought Beyond the day after her party and it’s placed at the center of an “alter” of my favorite things. Things that ground and center me.

I knew I’d have a good time at the party, but I didn’t know I would fall in love. Not just with the painting; that’s the night I met my future husband. Even though Mr. Pitre wasn’t there, his painting started a conversation for me with the man I’ll spend the rest of my life with. How can I be sure? I’m intuitive, remember?

A Hawaiian Ocean Fantasy took me back fifty years, to the best day of my life!

I must have been about twenty when I went to Maui for the first time. I was studying marine biology, and well on my way to a master’s degree, specializing in sea animals/mammals. I heard there was a group of spinner dolphins that patrolled an area on the west side, in a place called Honolua Bay. It was also a popular spot for surfers.

Little did I know, I was about to see a stunning creature in the sea, but she was of the human variety. Even from way off I could tell she was my dream girl. She had long black hair, dark brown skin and figure like a Hollywood movie star. While I watched her surf, spinners leap behind her. Talk about a fantasy!

When she walked out of the ocean I thought my knees would buckle. She walked right up to me, looked at me with eyes that shimmered like amber crystal and said five words: It’s not polite to stare. Ha!

Somehow, I managed to say I could spend the rest of my life staring at her. She must have liked the idea because that little lady is on the Davenport beside me, looking just as pretty as the day we met.

I’m so excited to have found John Pitre’s site! My son had the pleasure of seeing Mr. Pitre’s work at an event in Hawaii and he thought I would appreciate it. He was right! I went through the entire gallery before selecting my favorite. It was sooooooooo hard to decide but I finally chose Double Helix of Life.

Trust me… I had my eye on more, but this one kept calling my name. Something about the light in the center and how it illuminates a being that seems to have just appeared there; undisturbed by the life rushing past, unfettered by curious bystanders. The being, to me, represents infinite possibility, not yet swayed by ego or greed, just pure light and potential. A vessel both empty and full.

No choices have been made yet. No judgments cast. The being simply exists to bear witness to life. That’s a lesson we could all benefit from learning. It would certainly cut down on the amount of worrying most people do!

I remember an acquaintance telling me that most of our thoughts are just bad fiction; plotless stories we make up to cope with real or potential pain. After hearing that, I wondered how many years I wasted on pointless thoughts. I knew there must be a better way to use my creativity than repeatedly filling in the blank to “what if” questions. Now, when I get lost in useless thoughts, I fill in the blank with, “What IS.”

Being fully present isn’t easy in a world filled with distractions, but the painting reminds me that it’s possible. I’m not so sure I could remain present in the middle of a stampede, but it would be an interesting litmus test! I just realized… this piece should have been called “Being in the Light.” LOL.

Anyway, I’m delighted with my purchase. For those times that I’m knocked off center, Double Helix of Life immediately guides me back to What IS, not what was or may be. I’m amazed that a painting affects me so profoundly each time I look at it. In the spirit of joy, I send you all of my love and appreciation.

I recently purchased Turtle Canyon and wanted to tell you how much I appreciate your talent. I don’t know if people write to tell you about why they bought a certain print, but I think it’s important to know why you have a fan in Georgia.

Shortly after we moved into a waterfront house my children came inside with what looked like a collection of ping-pong balls. I asked where they found them and they said, on the beach. I thought it was an odd place for such a thing so I want to check it out. They led me to the area where they found them and I was shocked to see at least a hundred more buried in a hole in the sand.

At the time, I had no idea what turtle eggs, or a turtle nest looked like, so it was as much of a learning experience for me as it was for my children.

Because we were new to the neighborhood, I took the opportunity to introduce myself and children to the people who lived next door. They told us what they knew about the incubation period and emergence. We were told the hatchlings usually emerge as a group either at night or during a thunder storm.

We put the eggs back in the nest and checked for hatching every day and night for about two weeks. One morning all that was left were shells. My children were disappointed, but they were also curious about where the turtles went and how they lived in the sea.

There’s was a lot of information on the internet, but it was mostly facts. Children want a glimpse into worlds they are fascinated by. When I stumbled on Turtle Canyon their eyes lit up. It was just what they needed to believe that the turtles were safe and happy under the sea. The painting is in their room now and they can’t wait for the next nesting season.

When I saw “Dollhouse” I was flooded with memories from my youth. Growing up, my family and I spent every summer weekend in a place called Muddy Gut. The name doesn’t paint a pretty picture, but it was a beautiful part of Virginia, nestled next to the Rappahannock River surround by an evergreen forest.

The river— a mile wide at that point— fed into the Chesapeake Bay, boasted white-sand beaches and was teaming with a rich supply of blue crabs, catfish, water moccasin, and much, much more. The land was equally fertile. Fields were ripe with everything from corn to strawberries. Fruit and vegetables grew wild in the nearby forest; nourishing deer, possum, rabbits, etc.

We lived off the land. My father taught me to fish and hunt— among many other practical things— and my mother taught me to cook. We spent the weekends water-skiing, going on long boat rides, having picnics in boat “graveyards,” and catching lightening bugs in mason jars.

Muddy Gut was pulsing with life, not just outside. Our 2-bedroom, cinderblock cottage was home to my parents, grandparents, me and my six brothers and sisters. The only drawback was… our cottage was behind a big, wooden beachfront house, which meant we had a narrow view of the water.

The “rich” people, who owned the big house, also had a big family. They were called the Stewards. Because they had more boys than my family, (I had five sisters and one brother) I’d hang out with them and go hunting or fishing for the evening meals, or play cards on the porch when it rained. Truth be told, they had a sister who was easy on the eyes too.

The Steward house was white, with a red roof and they had a watch tower, similar to the painting. After a long day, out on the river their place served as a beacon, guiding us home. The house— once enviable— seemed to shrink with every passing year. Hurricanes lifted the structure from its foundation and ripped off rooms piece by piece as if the home was built with Legos.

Soon family members moved (or passed) away and the house became uninhabitable.

The last picture I took of the Steward place shows an empty shell, leaning in the sand, but to me it will always hold valuable memories.

About a year ago, my wife (that cute Steward girl) and I moved to the west coast. We wanted something to make our house feel like home; something that reminded us of our childhood. When I ran across “Dollhouse,” I had to have it. But first, I wanted to see if the painting had the same effect on my wife, Anna. I asked her to scroll through the gallery to see if anything jumped out at her. She gasped when she saw “Dollhouse,” and said, “That looks just like the old river house!”

Without hesitation, we bought the painting by Pitre. Now, it hangs above the fireplace. Beneath it, the mantle is loaded with ancient photos of us and our families including the old Steward place. Even though time and circumstance left the house in ruin, the happy memories are unscathed.

The little cottage where I lived with my family now has a panoramic view of the river, but without the Steward house, it doesn’t feel the “the River,” any more. Besides, the forest was cut down by a developer and the river and land that was once abundant with flora and fauna, is a thing of the past.

But, Pitre’s painting transports us back to some of the best memories of our lives. In fact, the last picture I took of the Steward place was taken the day I proposed to Anna. She’s standing outside, grinning from ear-to-ear, showing off her engagement ring… and her gorgeous figure.

The house might have been reduced to a shell, but the marriage was built on a solid foundation. That’s what we see in your painting; happiness, promise, hope and a lifetime of memories together. I can’t tell you how happy we are to have purchased Dollhouse. We’ve joked that even if we lost everything but still had Dollhouse we’d feel like we were at home in a cardboard box. Many, many thanks to the artist for resurrecting our magical past!

Every Christmas I give both of my children a “serious” work of art with a magical twist. The gift becomes a theme for the following year. For example, one year the gifts were sculptures of chimpanzee’s in circus uniforms. We spent the next year going to as many zoos and circuses as we could find. One year I gave T-Rex heads made from recycled material. The next year we went to dinosaur museums, studied fossils and created useable products from our recyclables.

It’s important to note that my children are grown but they still like the practice of fantasy.

Last year, when my daughter graduated from college, she moved from the Midwest to California. One of her primary goals— besides getting a job in comedy television— was to make new friends. The theme that year was unicorns on the run. Her Christmas gift had been a John Pitre’s painting called The Last Unicorn.

She took a picture of the Unicorn in the painting and made up flyers saying: Missing Unicorn. Last seen fleeing the frozen tundra, headed West. Believed to have followed a rainbow to California. Please email with any information you may have. Photos of him would be greatly appreciated.

I was gob-smacked. What-in-the-world did she hope to accomplish by putting up posters like that, all over Los Angeles?

Little did I know, it was a brilliant plan. She didn’t disclose the fact that she was female and, with only a few exceptions, everyone who responded was funny, creative, open-minded and exactly the types of people she wanted to be surrounded by. Those friends quickly became allies who helped her break into the well-guarded world of comedy television. Even though some of those friends moved to different cities (like New York and London) she gets to visit them every now and again.

She’s still clawing her way up the ladder, but she’s made her way from being an intern and a PA to being a locations and casting expert. Her next goals are to become a writer and director. I’ll have to find a new way to support that. Maybe a dolphin in Atlantis theme. Both of my kids love Pitre’s work. Why not stick with an artist that helped them both so much, even without knowing it.

Pitre might want to know, my daughter has a room in her apartment dedicated to the unicorn paraphernalia she collected after the flyer incident. The collection covers the ceiling and spreads down the walls. She and her friends add to it all the time.

As a side note, I gave John Pitre’s “Focus on Light” to my son for last year’s Unicorns on the Run theme. When I have time, I’ll send you a note about that. What he did with the idea, blew me away!

Pacific Moonrise was the perfect gift to buy for myself after my friend, Sue Evans passed away. There are some people you meet who have such an amazing impact on your life they deserve to be referred to by first and last name; Sue Evans was one of them.

Pacific Moonrise

We met by chance, but it wasn’t an accident. It was one of those moments where the coincidence was too great to be ignored; a moment when the Divine seemed to remove the cloak and say, “Yeah, I’m here and nothing will ever be the same again.”

This is a story that could fill several books, but I’ll give you the Readers Digest version…

I’d been looking for a house in the Uptown section of Minneapolis. Apartments were easy to find in that neighborhood, but houses… not so much. When I spotted an ad for an open house the following weekend, I called the owner to ask if I could see it before then, as I was headed to Chicago on Friday. She agreed and I met her that very evening.

I liked her instantly, as if she’d been my older sister in a different life. We got to talking and I asked what she did for a living. She was a therapist. When I mentioned that one of my closest friends was also a psychologist, Sue Evans asked for her name. When I told her, she looked at me and said, “That’s my business partner. I’ve known her for more than 30 years.” She laughed when I asked if an additional reference would be necessary. That laugh, a husky huh, huh that I’ll never forget.

I ended up renting the house from her, and because she lived within walking distance, we became great friends. About four months after we met, another close friend of hers (Bobbie) flew in from Mexico for a visit. One night, in early February, we were all drinking wine and Bobbie said Sue Evans had a “thing” for whales. I laughed, not knowing there were people with such random interests.

Bobbie owned a home in Mexico, on seven miles of unadulterated beach. The property also had four casitas, a swimming pool, an outdoor kitchen and a rooftop palapa overlooking the Pacific Ocean. We were welcome to come and stay for free, and oh… whale season was upon us. About three glasses of Chardonnay later, Sue Evans and I were booking flights to the Baja for the end of the month.

After we arrived and settled in, Bobbie told us she’d secured a whale-watching trip for the following day. We got up at sunrise and picked up another friend named Azul who was, without question, the prettiest human being I’ve ever seen. I mention this because I’d overslept. Being late meant I wasn’t wearing any make-up (which, as a blond, basically erases my features), my hair was in a messy bun, I was 20 pounds overweight and my clothes made me look homeless.

By contrast, Azul was half my age and a petite yoga instructor from Brazil, who had long black hair, huge green eyes and was wearing an outfit that honestly made me question my heterosexuality.

As an avid photographer, I began taking pictures when we got out of the car. It was a beautiful morning, the water in the cove was calm, seagulls flew overhead, 15 boats (each with a captain a handful of passengers) were lined up on the shore and that naturally gorgeous young woman was the picture of joy and love; all images calling for my attention.

I was snapping away, when Sue Evans called me over. “This one’s ours,” she said. Having grown up around boats, I absentmindedly climbed aboard, picked a spot and started scrolling through the pictures. Then… I heard it; the voice of an Englishman. The depth of his tone, resonated in “places,” that VERY much confirmed my romantic gender preferences.

Do you ever take a moment to NOT look at something because you know the minute you do; your life will change forever? NO? Until that time, I hadn’t either. I took a breath and then locked eyes with him. It was complete and instant love. We’d been married in a different life and we would be married in this one too.

He smiled at me and that was it. My heart was his. I’d been single for eleven years (talk about a dry spell!) and I’d never known real love before that. My parents used to say, “You’ll know your soulmate the instant you see their eyes.” I didn’t think lightening could strike twice in the same family. THEY got to have big love, I got other things. And yet there it was, there HE was. I didn’t know whether to giggle or cry with gratitude.

We spent about five hours on his boat that day and I never saw him look at the gorgeous girl seated next to me. Not even when she spoke directly to him. After the trip, he hugged each of the women and then came to me. He wrapped his arms around me and held me, then looked into my eyes and everything outside of the two of us disappeared. We kissed and every part of me knew he was the ONE.

As my friends and I walked to the car, I asked, “Did you see that?” Sue Evans responded with, “What… the kiss or the energy I’ve never seen between two people before?”

They came up with a plan to invite him over to enjoy the Dorado (fish) he’d caught, cleaned and given Bobbie as a token of his thanks. He accepted. After dinner, my future husband and I got a blanket and walked to the beach. Sitting side-by-side, we could see dolphins and whales playing beneath a full moon.

With no one else in sight we did more than just kiss that night, we consumed each other. Several times. We were married two months later and I have Sue Evans and a whale-watching trip to thank for that.

Two years later she was diagnosed with pancreatic cancer and died shortly after.

Pacific Moonrise is a tribute to her. If she didn’t have a “thing” for whales, I never would have met my husband. It was a magical trip and she was a magical person. Thanks to Pitre, the best days of my life will return to me each time I look at Pacific Moonrise.

When I saw Messengers of Light it sent a chill up my spine. The painting was a visual representation of the reason I’m on earth. To me, there is a haunting quality about seeing a select group of people walking alone/together in the dark. Bearers of light looking both weary and calm.

Messengers of Light

My oldest sister, who was eighteen my senior, used to say that I was born forty-five years old, knowing things about people and life instinctively. Eerie wisdom she called it.

There have been other labels; earth angel, shaman, indigo child. Being in the presence of “different” human beings makes most people uncomfortable, until they find a box to put them in. In the last 15 years several new categories have been created to pigeonhole people: autistic, ADHD, Borderline Personality Disordered. It’s odd that no one seems to think neurotypicals need defining.

But, I’m off topic. This is supposed to be about Messengers of Light.

I’m particularly drawn to this piece because Pitre shows children as messengers of light.

I remember being 6 years old and waking up on an upper bunk. There were flashes of light dancing on my skin. I didn’t think about the source because I was fascinated by the circumstances; it was as if I’d just incarnated. The soul who’d occupied this body, all the days before that moment, was something akin to a place holder. It was my turn.

I crawled down the foot of the bed, felt the wood floor beneath my feet and heard something in tandem with the rise and fall of my chest. Breathing… the breath of life. I smiled and whispered, “I’m human!” The flashes of light called me to a dormer window. I looked down and saw a house across the street engulfed in flames.

It rocked my soul’s concept of what it meant to be human. Mother earth wasn’t beautiful; she had claws. The perfection I’d known was gone in that instant and every fiber of my being knew I was in a very dangerous place… the world.

I heard a child’s voice, “What’s going on?” I turned to see a girl— my sister, I assumed— on the bottom bunk rubbing her eyes.

“A house is on fire.” The sound of my own voice startled me.

She darted out of bed and stood beside me. “Oh my gosh!”

There was a girl, about 10 years old standing on the lawn. She was in a white night gown looking up at the flames. There other people were outside, but only the girl stood out. “She’s going to live with us.”

My sister looked at me. “Kathy?”

“The girl in the white dress.”

“Kathy.”

I shrugged. “Okay, Kathy. Her family is going to move to Florida but Kathy won’t want to go. So, Mom will adopt her. Oh… and she’s going to marry our brother when she’s nineteen.”

The way she knit her eye brows was so different from her previous expression, I realized she was confused. Didn’t all people know things?

That was the first of a lifetime of prophecies.

Soon, Kathy was resting on a cot in our room. My mother was stroking her hair. “Take this,” she said. “It’s only an aspirin but maybe it’ll help you sleep.” She handed her a glass of water. “We’ll get you a real bed tomorrow. You can stay as long as you like.” She kissed her on the forehead before leaving the room.

Kathy sat up on the cot, looked at me and said, “You look different. Like a grown-up trapped in a kid.”

I laughed and knew we would be very good friends. For many years I was closer to her than anyone else.

Now, she and my brother Neil have been married for 41 years. They were the ones who gave me Messengers of Light for my 50th birthday. I’ve never received a more touching gift. It was their way of saying they accepted, maybe even appreciated, my “otherworldliness.”

Bringing light into a dark world isn’t always easy, but as the painting shows, it’s imperative to keep walking the path of ethical truth, because I am, aptly put, a messenger of light.

When I was living in Hawaii, I had the pleasure of meeting John Pitre at an "All Artist Event" at a Wyland Gallery on the North Shore.

I was walking through the Artist show rooms, and I was looking at one of his works, and I heard a voice from behind me ask, "What do you think of this piece?" Thinking it was a consultant trying to get me to buy it, I responded with, "I'm not really fond of it." I then hear, "Could you tell me why, I'm the artist that painted it." My head dropped, and I pointed over to a piece that I really did like, and said, "But I LOVE that one!". He then asked me to explain to him why I didn't like the one, and really liked the other. He and I talked for a good 30-45 minutes, not going over just the one piece, but every piece in his display area. He allowed me to have my photo taken with him. Blew me away. I still have that photo today. It actually helped me to get a job as an art consultant when I moved to San Antonio at the now closed Wyland Gallery at the Rivercenter Mall.

As of today, I now own a signed and numbered print (Restrictions), and a signed and numbered poster of Focus on Light. I also have posters of Israel Martyrs, Retribution, Remnant of Power, Domination of Power, and a small open edition of Aumakua and the Ancient Voyagers.

Synchronicity is a strange thing. There are times in people’s lives when there seem to be none-at-all and other times when there are so many coincidences, you can’t help but wonder about the significance; the meaning behind the snapshots of time that practically beg to be critiqued in a gallery.

Two years ago, I returned from a vacation at a seaside resort in central California. The trip was exactly what was needed to restore a sense of calm and connection to the universe. Even though my life wasn’t where I wanted it to be, one evening I somehow “knew” things were about to change for the better.

At the time, I was single, thinking about relocating and dreaming about having a child. Being thirty-four meant the clock was ticking and I was seriously considering artificial insemination. But, that changed the night I went for a swim in the ocean under the full light of the moon. Floating on my back I stared at the contrast of a dark sky and the bright moon, and for the first time in many years, I stopped thinking; stopped trying to control my future and I was… pregnant with possibility.

You might be wondering why I’m writing to the artist about my experience.

When I returned from that vacation, and reality starting consuming hope, a friend came to my home with a gift; a painting from John Pitre. It was called, “Moonlit Dream.” When I unwrapped the present and saw what lay beneath the paper, I cried so hard my friend had to ask, “Are those happy tears or is this a hormone thing?”

I laughed through tears (which is “as they say,” the greatest emotion), placed the painting on the couch and gave him a hug. We’d been friends for many years, but it wasn’t until that moment that I realized he was the One for me. We made eye contact. He smiled and said, “Do you know how many years I’ve been waiting for you to look at me that way?”

One kiss and ten months later we welcomed a baby girl. Her name is Hope and she’s a night child; sleeping during the day, staring at the sky at night. I would have written sooner about how a single painting changed my life, but as you can see I’ve been a bit busy. Not only did I marry the man of my dreams and have a baby— who has all ten fingers and toes, but we relocated to San Diego.

Last weekend, as we unpacked our things and began settling into our new home, I unwrapped Moonlit Dream. I know it’s unhealthy to be attached to things, but I can’t help it. Every time I look at the painting, I feel the same way I did floating in the Pacific Ocean and kissing my husband for the first time. Life can be filled with magic and if I ever begin to forget that, all I need to do is pour a glass of wine and look at Moonlit Dream to restore a sense of calm and a connection to the universe.

I didn’t know how potent art could be, but to say Pitre’s work is powerful… is an understatement. His painting didn’t just move me, it altered the course of my life. Now I’m living authentically and you have no idea how good it feels. Please know I’m forever grateful for a gift that keeps on giving.

I recently purchased a print of Temptations of a False God, not only because I admire John Pitre’s work, but the message in this painting is one I need to be reminded of. There’s a reason I bought it, I’ve been (mostly) sober for over 40 years. For those times when the temptation to use becomes overwhelming, this painting serves as a daily reminder to abstain.

Every addict and every addiction has a trigger. Like a gun in the hands of a maniac, you never know when or where the impulse to shoot(up) might occur.

In recovery they say, “day-by-day.” I wish it were that easy. For me, even after all these years, it’s more like minute-by-minute. Some people have addictions. Maybe they eat, drink or shop too much. Me, I don’t have an addiction, I’m an addict. What they call a “white-knuckler.” To be honest, I’m not that discerning either. If you can pop it, snort it, shoot it, or swallow it, I’ll do it.

I mean… I’ve done it.

Like Robert Downey Jr., I grew up with addicts. Addicts who didn’t hide the drugs from their children and addicts who thought it was funny to see a kid stoned or high. Before you start feeling sorry for me, don’t. The problem wasn’t taking drugs or alcohol— I LOVED it— the problem was… I had no problem with it, but everybody else did. Teachers, bosses, friends, lovers.

I lost everything and everybody by the time I was 19 years old. Do you know what it’s like to pass out in Minnesota and wake up naked in the back of a van in New Orleans and have no idea how you got there? It might be a funny story if I were a guy, like the one in the painting who’s passed out on white pills, but I’m not.

Back then, I was thought of as attractive. The type of pretty girl who some guys would love to see unconscious and at that point I had no idea who I was with. I don’t mean I didn’t recognize the person… there was no one else in the van. This was at a time when there were no cell phones and I had nothing to wear and no money.

Luckily the story ended much better than it could have, with a knock on the back door and a woman asking if she could come in with some clothes. I didn’t know her, but I’ll never forget what she said after I dressed, “Child, I’m not going to tell you what to do… Lord knows I ain’t been no angel… but if you don’t get some help, you’re not going to make it to twenty-five.”

Not only did she give me clothes, a bus ticket home to Minnesota and money for food, she gave me a future. When I saw Temptations of a False God, I remembered her words, “Lord knows I ain’t been no angel…” and realized I’d worshipped drugs, idolized them. Back then I thought giving them up was akin to forsaking God, but the painting helps me to remember the pain and destruction that can happen when I put my faith in the wrong things.

I’m no angel either, but at least I’m a better human being than I used to be and Temptations of a False God is helping me to stay that way. Many thanks Mr. Pitre, you’re giving me strength, day-by-day, hour-by-hour and minute-by-minute.

25 hand-sketched studies, early patent drawings, and original Pitre oils found

Thirty years after a fire destroyed the home of surrealist master painter John Pitre, several rare works—once thought destroyed—have been found undamaged.

The collection, which a studio manager found in a broken drawer, contains unpublished original drawings, color studies, and sketches.

A devastating fire destroyed most of Pitre's personal possessions thirty years ago, including his original art catalogue, prototypes for a range of inventions, as well as artifacts from a lifetime of international travel and a self-designed ultralight aircraft.

After the fire, Pitre managed to rebuild his body of work and become one of the top-selling painters of his time. Often called a modern-day DaVinci, Pitre designed and piloted experimental aircraft as well, and he founded Natural Power Concepts, a renewable energy technology company. He also invented two of the most financially successful fitness products of all time.

The items were found by a studio manager in a forgotten cabinet of locked metal drawers.

“Some of the drawers had been pinched closed and obviously not opened for years, maybe decades,” said Zach Thomson, manager of Pitre Fine Arts in Honolulu. “When we moved the studio, I dislodged the drawers, pulled everything out, and was shocked to find a huge stack of original drawings, color studies, and sketches - many of which remain unseen and unpublished to this day. John and everyone else had thought these items perished in the fire.”

Pitre's best-known works include “Restrictions” (which has sold over seven million copies in print) and “Split World,” which portrays the struggle of nature against industrial expansion and pollution. His career has spanned over fifty years.

The newly-discovered works are currently undergoing review and evaluation and may be made available to the public in the near future.

Images of the newly-discovered works are available at [http://www.johnpitre.com/exclusivemembers/].